Starsight

10

It was beautiful.

As my alien guides led me closer, I could see that the station flowed with greenery. Parks filled with trees that towered some ten or fifteen meters tall. Large swaths of a dark green substance that M-Bot identified as a kind of moss, soft to walk on.

Back on Detritus, life was austere. Sure, there was the occasional statue, but buildings on the surface were plain and simple—they were built more like bunkers. And down below, the caverns were dominated by the apparatus and the red light of the manufactories. Humankind had existed on the brink of extinction for so long that survival—by necessity—trumped expression.

This place, in contrast, proclaimed its artistry like a battle standard. Buildings rose in spiral patterns or marched in colorful rows. It seemed like every second block contained a park. I could see the people moving among it all with a certain lazy cast to them, many idling in parks. Ships that floated around in the atmosphere didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. Here, people relaxed and enjoyed themselves.

I distrusted the place immediately.

Alanik had told me not to trust their peace. While I didn’t know that I could trust her, I certainly didn’t need a warning. The Superiority had kept my people imprisoned on Detritus for the last eighty years. My father and many of my friends had been killed because of the Superiority. The place could feign a beautiful, welcoming air, but I would not let down my guard.

“There is almost no radio chatter,” M-Bot said. “Nor is there a single wireless network.”

“They’re afraid of delvers,” I said, shivering. “They must have the same traditions that we have—limiting wireless communication only to necessary situations.”

“Indeed. Fortunately, I’ve been able to deduce our prescribed landing location by reading the numbers of bays we’ve passed. I’ll map it for you.”

I followed his directions to an open metallic field of small raised platforms near the center of the city. As I set down on the proper one, I sank into my seat. Like Platform Prime, this place had an artificial gravity field.

“Pressure has been equalized with the outside,” M-Bot said. “And the atmosphere is breathable for you, though with a higher oxygen content than you’re accustomed to. Initial scans indicate no dangerous microorganisms.”

All right. I opened the canopy. An alien with a squidlike face stepped over to my ship. “Steps, ramp, slime slide, or other?” they called up to me, my pin translating.

“Um . . .” I gestured for them to wait, hoping they’d understand, then hissed to M-Bot. “Wait, what if they recognize that I’m speaking in English, instead of Alanik’s language?”

“I don’t think any of them will know her language,” M-Bot replied. “In fact, she would probably have had to speak an Earth language to be understood. Her records indicate she spoke fluent Mandarin, and you saw that she knew some English. Her planet did spend three decades acting as a staging ground for human forces during the last war, after all.”

“And the people here will understand English?”

“The translator pins they wear should. Alanik’s records indicate there were three attempted human galactic conquests in the past, and that left many cultures knowing Earth languages. All translators seem to carry English, Spanish, Hindi, and Mandarin by default.”

I nodded, moving to call to the dockworkers—but then I hesitated. “Wait. What was that you said? My ancestors tried to conquer the galaxy three times?”

“And quite nearly succeeded each time,” M-Bot said. “According to the records on Alanik’s ship. Many in the Superiority apparently name the ‘human scourge’ the greatest threat the galaxy has ever known.”

Wow. I was impressed, though a little piece of me was also . . . disturbed. It was inspiring to hear that my ancestors had been the heroic warriors I’d always imagined, but at the same time I’d always thought of my kind as being oppressed. Unjustly and unfairly beaten down by the Krell, denied freedom by a terrible alien force.

Surely there was a reason we’d been forced to fight. Besides, enemy propaganda could claim what it wanted; that didn’t justify what had been done to us on Detritus. I narrowed my eyes, determined not to believe their lies.

“Sorry,” I said, leaning out to call to the dockworkers. “Had a communication I had to deal with. You asked if I wanted a ramp or steps? Steps will be fine.”

The squid-faced creature waved, and a larger creature with a grey-stone appearance rolled over a set of mobile steps. I hesitated, looking out at the bustling alien city. The place felt dark, even with large spotlights on the tops of buildings illuminating everything. The sky was still black. From inside, I couldn’t see the air bubble as I looked up—I just saw an endless expanse, the stars mostly washed out by the lights.

“Let’s see,” the squid-faced creature said, climbing up the steps to join me. “You’ve got diplomatic berthing privileges. So take your time! We’ll get this ship washed up and—”

“No,” I said. “Please. I’m very protective of my ship. Don’t let anyone touch it.”

The alien’s translator interpreted my words, then their squid tentacles slithered in a distinctly annoyed expression. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I said, imagining someone discovering the hologram. “Please.”

“Well, all right,” the creature said, typing something on a handheld screen. This being had long, wiggly arms that ended in a branching pair of two blue tentacles instead of hands. “Here’s an access ticket, if you want to send anyone else with authorization to fly the ship. I suggest you not lose it.” The tablet ejected a small chip, which the squid creature handed over. Then they climbed back down the steps.

I pocketed the chip, and was again struck by how good M-Bot’s holograms were. He had overlapped my flight suit with an image of Alanik’s, but the pocket was still right where I expected. And interacting with solid objects—like touching the chip with my hologram-coated fingers—didn’t disturb the illusion.

This, and the fact that the alien hadn’t reacted to me speaking English, made my confidence grow. What next? I had to find out how to sign up for their military. That was step one. After that, I could try the more difficult part—stealing a hyperdrive.

How did I start, though? This place was enormous. Outside the docking area, the city streets stretched for kilometers, lined with towering buildings and bustling foot traffic. Ships zoomed overhead. There had to be millions upon millions of people here.

The aliens who intercepted me above, I thought, said that someone would be sent to meet me once I landed. Which gave me some time, so I settled in and reached out with my mind again, trying to find Detritus. Only, something was blocking my senses. A . . . thickness. It was like trying to move in high gravity. Huh. As I was considering that, someone outside the cockpit spoke loudly, and my pin translated.

“Emissary Alanik?” the voice asked.

I leaned out to find an alien standing on my launchpad. They were a tall, slender creature with vivid blue skin. This species seemed to be of a similar race to the crimson ones I’d seen earlier piloting the patrol ships—this individual also lacked hair and had the same cheekbones and eye ridges.

The creature wore a set of robes that were a softer, paler blue than their skin tone. Like the others, this one had androgynous features. I couldn’t tell if they were male or female—or something else entirely—from their appearance or voice.

“Ah!” they said to me. “Emissary. We are very glad you decided to respond to our request! I am Cuna, and have been assigned to aid you during this visit. Would you mind coming down? I’ve arranged for you to have housing here on Starsight, and I can show you the way.”

“Sure!” I called. “Let me stow my helmet.” I ducked back into the cockpit. “All right, M-Bot. Tell me what to do.”

“How should I know?” he replied. “This was your plan.”

“Technically, it’s Rodge’s plan. Either way, I’m not a spy—but you were designed for this kind of operation. So tell me what to do. How should I act?”

“Spensa, you’ve seen me interact with organics. You really think I’m going to be able to do a better job than you at imitating another one?”

He had a point. Scud. “This is going to be difficult. That alien down there seems to know something about Alanik and her people. What if I say something wrong?”

“Maybe you could pretend to be quiet, and not speak much.”

“Quiet?” I asked. “Me?”

“Yes. Pretend that Alanik is reserved.”

“Reserved. Me?”

“You see, that is why it’s called pretending. Rodge and I have been working on this—my ability to accept that sometimes human beings do not accurately present who they are. In any case, maybe this would have been something good to think about before volunteering for the spy mission behind enemy lines.”

“We didn’t have much time to think.” Still, there was no helping it. I tried to keep a warrior’s calm as I retrieved the sidearm from my weapons locker and tucked it into the voluminous pocket of my flight suit’s trousers. That attitude was growing harder and harder to attain as I realized the magnitude of what this mission would require of me.

I put in the tiny wireless earpiece that paired with the mobile receptor bracelet to let M-Bot talk to me privately from a distance, and he disguised it as jewelry with a hologram. Then I put Doomslug on the back floor of the cockpit and pointed at her. “Stay,” I said.

“Stay?” she fluted.

“I’m serious.”

“Serious?”

I was pretty sure she couldn’t understand me—she was just a slug. Hopefully she’d stay put for once. Finally, I heaved myself out and climbed down to the launchpad.

“Sorry for the delay,” I said to Cuna.

Their translator worked, spitting the words out for them, and—like the dockworker—Cuna either didn’t notice I’d spoken in English, or didn’t care.

“Not at all, not at all,” Cuna said, tucking their tablet under their arm. “I’m extremely pleased to meet you. It was by my personal request that an offer was sent to your people.”

Scud. I’d been hoping that the people here wouldn’t know much about Alanik’s. I’d been under the impression that a general call for pilots had been made, not individual requests.

“You’re that interested in my people?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. We’re preparing a very special operation, for which we will need an unusually large number of trained pilots. It has been decided that this might be an excellent way for the Superiority to judge the skill of some races that have stood for too long outside the Superiority’s fold. But that is a discussion for a little later! Come. Let me show you to your housing.”

Cuna started off down a path among the launchpads, and I had no choice but to follow. I hated leaving my ship behind, but M-Bot’s mobile receptor had a good hundred-kilometer communication range to it. Plus, the hologram would continue to work even if I went outside that range, so I shouldn’t need to worry.

I hurried along behind Cuna and exited the landing area. Don’t gawk, I told myself. Don’t gawk. Don’t gawk.

I gawked.

It was impossible to resist. Buildings towered high on either side of the walkway, like runways toward the stars. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors flowed around me—all dressed in clothing like I’d never seen. No one was wearing anything that even remotely looked like a uniform.

It was all so much to take in. Far overhead, ships darted in every direction, but between us and them, floating discs with acclivity rings on the bottom ferried people quickly from one section of the city to another. It was a place of constant motion and lush indulgence. Gardens on every other corner, shops selling clothing of all varieties. Scents of unfamiliar foods drifting from stalls.

There had to be at least a thousand different races represented here, but two varieties were by far more common than others. The first was the Krell. I jumped despite myself as I saw the first one march by, though this one looked slightly different from the bodies we’d recovered from the manned fighters we’d shot down. The armor these Krell wore was crystalline instead of metallic, and looked more like brownish-pink sandstone. The shape of it was the same—something like the old pictures I’d seen of Earth knights. Only, these Krell wore a helmet with a clear faceplate, revealing a liquid within and a small crablike creature piloting from inside the head.

I’d always seen the Krell as imposing, dangerous. They were battlefield warriors, clad in armor and ready for a fight. Yet here they were mostly in stalls, selling goods to passersby, waving clawlike armored arms in sweeping gestures. My translator picked up their calls, delivering the words of the various shopkeepers as we passed.

“Come, friend! Be welcome!”

“A wonderful outfit you wear, and well accompanied!”

“Have you heard about the recruitment effort? Don’t worry if you don’t want to listen!”

One stumbled a little close to me, and although I instinctively reached for my pocket—and the weapon hidden in it—the creature apologized at least six times while backing away.

“This is curious,” M-Bot said in my ear. “I’m recording all of this for later analysis.”

“Those are the—”

“Don’t speak to me!” M-Bot told me in my ear. “Cuna’s translator will translate the words for them. My stealth systems can mask our communication, but you should endeavor to pretend you don’t have a wireless link to anyone. Later, we’ll set up your bracelet so you can tap instructions to me in DDF flight code. For now, I suggest you just stay quiet.”

I snapped my mouth closed. Cuna gave me an inquisitive look, but I just shook my head and smiled as we kept walking.

But scud, the Krell. When I’d first traveled into space and confronted them a few months back, they’d been terrified of me. Perhaps that had to do with the way my people had nearly conquered the galaxy, but these things all seemed to be timid. How could they be the same mighty force that had kept humankind imprisoned on Detritus for eighty years?

This place had to be some kind of false front, I decided. A propaganda strategy meant to improve the Superiority’s image. It made sense. Create a big hub where lots of races visit, then pretend to be harmless and unassuming.

More confident that I understood what was going on, I continued to survey my surroundings. The other most common alien race here was the ones like Cuna, my guide. They wore a variety of clothing types, from robes to casual trousers and shirts, and seemed to come in three different skin shades. Crimson, blue, and dark purple.

“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” Cuna asked.

I nodded. That was the truth, at least.

“If I may be so bold,” Cuna continued. “Your people were wise in agreeing to send us a pilot. If you do well in this preliminary program, we can enter into a more formal deal with your people. In exchange for an entire force of pilots, we will offer the UrDail citizenship. It has been a long time coming; I’m glad to see relations between us normalizing.”

“It’s a good deal,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “You get pilots. We get to join the Superiority.”

“As secondary citizens,” Cuna said. “Of course.”

“Of course,” I said, though I must have sounded hesitant, because Cuna glanced at me.

“You aren’t clear on the distinction?”

“I’m sure the politicians understand,” I said. “I’m just a pilot.”

“Still, it would be good for you to know the stakes of your test here. You see, your people are special. Most species who haven’t yet joined the Superiority are relatively primitive—with a low intelligence designation. They tend to be brutal, warlike, and technologically backward.

“The UrDail, on the other hand, have been a spacefaring people for centuries now. You have nearly reached primary intelligence and have a functioning world government. Normally, you’d have been invited among our ranks generations ago. Except for one big black mark.”

Cytonics? I wondered.

“Humans,” Cuna said as we walked. “You fought alongside the human scourge during the Third Human War a century back.”

“They forced us to do so,” I answered.

“I would not seek to dispute the facts as you present them,” Cuna said. “Suffice it to say that many within the Superiority are convinced you are too aggressive to join us.”

“Too aggressive?” I said, frowning. “But . . . didn’t you come to us looking to recruit fighter pilots?”

“It is a delicate balance,” Cuna said. “We have some very special projects that require pilots, but we don’t want to corrupt our military with those who are too aggressive. Some say that your people’s proximity to humans has let their ways infiltrate your society.”

“And . . . what do you think?” I asked.

“I am part of the Department of Species Integration,” Cuna replied. “Personally I believe there is a home for many different types of species in the Superiority. You can be an advantage to us, should you prove worthy.”

“Sounds great,” I said dryly, then immediately winced at the tone. Maybe I should just try not to say anything.

Cuna eyed me, but when they spoke, their voice was calm. “Surely you can see the advantages to your people. You’ll have access to our galactic hubs such as this station, and the right to buy passage and cargo space on our trade ships. You will no longer be trapped in your little planetary system, but can experience the galaxy at large.”

“We already can though,” I said. “I came here on my own.”

Cuna stopped, and at first I worried I’d said something wrong. Then Cuna smiled. It was a distinctly disturbing expression on their face, predatory, showing too many teeth. “Well,” they said. “That is another matter which we shall discuss.”

Cuna turned and waved their hand toward a small, narrow building alongside the road. Squeezed between two larger structures, it was three stories high. Like all the buildings on the platform, it seemed to have been made of metal originally—but it had been painted to give it a fake brick look.

“Here is the building we offer for your quarters,” Cuna said. “It is large for one individual, but it is our hope that—once you’ve proven yourself—we can house an entire squadron or more of your pilots here. We thought it appropriate to give you this to begin. As you can see, it has a private docking berth on the top, should you wish to land your ship here. It is conveniently located near the main docks, however—and close to several parks and markets.”

Cuna started up the short steps leading to the building.

“I don’t like this,” M-Bot said in my ear. “Spensa? If you get killed in an ambush, I’m going to be very surprised.”

I hesitated. Could this be some sort of trap? To what end? They could have just blown me out of the sky—or at least tried to—during my approach.

“That was me practicing lying,” M-Bot noted. “I wouldn’t be surprised, because I just anticipated it. But I would be disappointed. Well, I’d simulate disappointment.”

I headed up the steps. Cuna did seem to think that I really was Alanik. It didn’t feel like a trap.

Together, we stepped into the building. I was used to being the shortest person in the room, but Cuna’s limber build—which was too willowy to feel human—made me feel not just short, but squat and awkward as well. This building had high ceilings and doorways, and even the counters were a tad too tall for me. It seemed to have been built for people of a taller race, though Alanik had been about my height.

Cuna led me to a small room at the front that was lit by recessed ceiling lights and had a window looking out at the street. The room was comfortable-looking, furnished with plush chairs and a boardroom-style table. The walls had been painted to make them seem like wood—though tapping one with my fingernail proved they were metal.

Cuna sat down with a graceful motion, setting their tablet on the table, then smiled at me again with that too-predatory look. I lingered near the door, unwilling to sit and put my back to my exit.

“You are what we call a cytonic, Alanik,” Cuna said to me. “Your people don’t have true faster-than-light travel or hyperdrives, so you have to rely on cytonic people. And since you have very few, you remain primarily locked into your backwater of the galaxy.”

Cuna met my eyes, and I could swear I saw careful calculation in there.

I felt increasingly on edge. They seemed to know more about Alanik than I would’ve wanted. “What can you tell me?” I asked. “About what I am. About what I can do.”

Cuna settled back in the seat, lacing their fingers, lips drawn to an emotionless line. “What you do is dangerous, Emissary Alanik. Surely you’ve felt the attention of the delvers on you, in the negative realm where you go between moments when you’re engaging in a hyperspace jump?”

I nodded. “I call it the nowhere.”

“I’ve never experienced it myself,” Cuna said idly. “And the delvers? You’ve felt them?”

“I see eyes watching me. The eyes of something that lives in that place.”

“That is them,” Cuna said. “Centuries ago, my kind learned firsthand how dangerous the delvers are. Thirteen of the . . . creatures entered into our realm. They rampaged, destroying planet after planet.

“Eventually, we realized that our cytonics had drawn them to us—and once here, delvers could hear our communications. Not just cytonic communication; they could hear even things like radio waves. We made the painful transition away from using cytonics, and even normal communications. We made our planets, and our fleets, silent.

“The delvers, blessedly, left. It took decades, but one by one they faded back to their realm. The galaxy crept out of its proverbial shell—but with new understandings and new rules.”

“No cytonics,” I whispered. “Be careful with wireless signals, even radio.”

“Yes,” Cuna said. “And avoid using AI, which angers the delvers. Most normal communications aren’t capable of bringing the creatures into our realm—but once they’re here, they hear us talking, and it draws them to feast. Even now, centuries later, we hold to these prohibitions. Though no delvers are in our realm, it is better to be safe.”

I swallowed. “I’m . . . surprised that you let any cytonics continue to live.”

Cuna raised their hand to their throat in an expression that I interpreted as shock. “What would you have us do?”

“Attack anyone who has cytonics.”

“Barbaric! That sort of behavior would not be becoming of people who have achieved primary intelligence. No, we do not exterminate species. Even the human scourge has been carefully sectioned off and isolated, rather than destroyed!”

I knew that was, at least in part, a lie. They’d been trying to destroy us recently.

“Such violent measures aren’t necessary,” Cuna said. “A single cytonic here and there, like yourself, is not a danger. Particularly untrained as you are. It took our early cytonics generations to progress to the skills necessary to draw the delvers. So you are a danger, yes, but not an immediate one.

“For now we feel it is best to try to persuade people like yours to follow our ways, rather than risking . . . peril to us all. You see, we of the Superiority have developed better means of traveling the stars—hyperdrives that don’t draw delvers.”

“I know of those,” I said. And I’m going to steal one.

“The entire galaxy will be far safer once every race makes use of the Superiority’s hyperdrive ships. This is the express implication of our offer: if you provide us with pilots, we will grant you citizenship—and the right to passage on our safe FTL ships. You don’t get the technology itself; we must keep it secure. But your merchants, tourists, and officials can use our ships, just like everyone else in the Superiority.

“We are the only ones in the galaxy with access to this technology; you will find no black market FTL drives for sale, because they do not exist. No race has succeeded in stealing even a single hyperdrive from us. And so, the only safe way to travel the stars is to gain our favor. Prove to me that your pilots are as skilled as reported, and in return I will open the galaxy to you.”

I didn’t trust that propaganda as the truth. Of course Cuna would say that the technology wasn’t possible to steal. Unfortunately, they also said that others had tried.

I had to find a way to succeed where others had failed, and while the Superiority might be watching me. “But why do you need pilots?” I asked, trying to get more information. “The Superiority’s population is enormous. Surely you have plenty of your own pilots. What is this special project you want us for?”

It’s for fighting my people as Jorgen said, isn’t it? It could be no coincidence that the Superiority would start recruiting pilots for some special mission now, after my people had started to break out of Detritus.

Cuna sat for a moment, meeting my eyes. “This is a very delicate matter, Emissary Alanik. I would appreciate your discretion.”

“Sure. Of course.”

“We have . . . reason to believe the delvers are watching us,” Cuna said softly, “and that they might soon return.”

I drew in a sharp breath. Memories of what had happened to the original inhabitants of Detritus were fresh in my mind from the video. Cuna’s words should have been shocking, but instead they hit me with a numb sense of reality. Like the anticipated last note of a song.

“This is not the fault of cytonics,” Cuna continued. “Not this time. We fear that the delvers have simply decided to turn their attention upon our realm again.”

“What do we do?” I asked.

“We will not again be forced to cower and simply wait until the delvers decide to leave. We have been developing a secret weapon to fight them, should it be needed. Unfortunately, in order to put this weapon into action, we need skilled fighter pilots. Contrary to what you assume, we have a very small military. A . . . side effect of our peaceful natures. The Superiority governs not through force of might, but through technological enlightenment.”

“Meaning,” I said, “that you don’t fight against races you don’t like—you just leave them alone, without FTL. You don’t need to have a military since you control travel instead.”

Cuna laced their fingers again and didn’t reply to that. It seemed enough of a confirmation to me, and suddenly a lot of things made sense. Why didn’t the Superiority field a large number of fighters to destroy my people? Why did I meet so few manned ships or skilled aces during our fights? Why only a hundred drones at once? The Superiority simply didn’t have many fighter pilots.

I’d assumed the only way to rule an empire was to have a vast military. They’d figured out another method. If you could absolutely control access to hyperdrives, you didn’t need to fight your enemies. It took hundreds of years to travel between planets at sublight speeds. Nobody could attack you if they couldn’t get to you.

Cuna leaned forward. “I am not unimportant in the government here, Alanik, and have taken a personal interest in your people. I consider the delvers to be a serious threat. If the UrDail provide the pilots I need, I could make everything move smoothly for your people—perhaps paving the way for your people to be offered primary citizenship.”

“All right,” I said. “How do we begin?”

“Though I am part of the group planning to fight the delvers, I am not in charge of the operation. It is instead run by the Department of Protective Services. They are primarily tasked with resolving external threats to the Superiority. For example, they are in charge of containing the human scourge.”

“The . . . humans?”

“Yes. I assure you, your old . . . enemies are no threat to you anymore. The Department of Protective Services maintains observation platforms above their prisons, and is careful to see that no humans ever escape.”

Prisons.

Plural. Prisons.

We weren’t the only ones. I held in a shout for joy, just barely—in part because my mood was dampened by the next realization. This Department of Protective Services that Cuna mentioned . . . that had to be the group we called the Krell.

So I was going to be working directly for the Krell?

“You’ll need to pass their test to become a pilot,” Cuna said. “They have allowed me to insert a few specially chosen people in the tryouts. You see, there are disagreements among the departments, as we each have our . . . theories on how to best deal with the delvers. I see your kind as perfect for the duty. You have the martial traditions from your days of unfortunate involvement with humans—but at the same time you are peaceful enough to be trusted.

“I want you to prove me right. Try out for the project tomorrow, then represent my interests in the training that follows. If you succeed, then I will personally shepherd your people safely to their citizenship.”

Cuna smiled again. I shivered at the dangerous way their lips curled. Suddenly I felt way out of my league. I’d originally assumed Cuna to be some minor bureaucrat who had been assigned to Alanik. That wasn’t the case at all. Cuna wanted to use Alanik as a pawn in some political game far beyond my understanding.

I realized I was sweating, then wondered how the hologram would represent sweat dripping down my face—or if it even could. I licked my lips, my mouth having gone dry before Cuna’s careful stare.

Don’t stress about their politics, I told myself. You only have one mission: steal a hyperdrive. Do whatever it takes to gain their trust so they let you near one.

“I . . . I’ll do my best,” I said.

“Excellent. I will see you at the test tomorrow; the coordinates and instructions are on this datapad, which I will leave with you. Be warned, however, that your cytonic abilities will be muted here on Starsight—and you won’t be able to hyperjump away unless you fly out to a prescribed point first—because of our cytoshield.”

Cuna stood, leaving their tablet on the table. “I’ve included the details about the delver project on this datapad as well—though specifics on the weapon itself are classified. If you need to reach me before tomorrow, send a message to . . .”

Cuna trailed off, then turned their head and flashed their teeth toward the window in a strange sign of aggression.

“Well,” they said, “that’s going to be a bother.”

“What?” I asked. Then I heard it. Sirens. Within seconds, a ship with flashing lights lowered down from the sky to land in front of our building.

“Let me handle this,” Cuna said, and opened the door to walk out.

I hesitated in the doorway, baffled. Then I saw the person who climbed out of the ship.

It was a human woman.